


Vincula Sanguinis

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: Discord - Fandom, Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dadzawa, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, I got married, I mean, M/M, Multi, Other, Please join the Haikyuu!! + Ultra server, We are just a discord family that got out of hand, We had a demon uprising once, We have a dad and we aren't afraid to use him, a fam that kills people, it was wild, mafia!au, there is gore tho beware, we are such a good fam, well kinda, who the fuck knows anymore, why the fuck am I putting this in the title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: This is a story of a family, who wasn't quite like the others. It had no father, or a mother, just a brotherhood of fellow killers. And tailors. And dog keepers. And most likely Uber drivers. The feared mafia that makes the headlines every other day isn't quite like the others, it seems. Welcome to GunBoys. And yes, the name was the boss' idea.





	1. Prologue: Leather Shoes

Riku “Katsudon” Wallevish was a wise man. He didn’t cross the street on the red light, always turned off the electricity when a thunderstorm hit his city, and, of course, he washed his teeth every evening (using, as expected, the most expensive toothpaste imported from South Korea). He locked the doors, gave to charity for good publicity, overlooked the gargantuan mistakes made by his young, attractive secretary, always paid for her meals when he took her out for candlelit dinner dates to the Grand Hotel Tokio and told only truth to his wife. Well, he tried, at least.

But to be honest, no amount of experience could’ve prepared him for the meeting with a mafia boss.

There was a gramophone in the corner of the room, barely visible through the smoke that filled the area. It cracked and let out various unexplainable sounds, but the voice of the singer was clear and light, unlike the atmosphere in the guest room of the Blueberry Manor. Wallevish gripped the armrest of the red velvet cushioned chair he was seated at by one of the servants, swallowing nervously, as a pair of keen eyes stared him down from across the room.

“Let me get this straight, Mister Riku.” a voice filled the emptiness in the room, easily overpowering the record that was currently running. “You wish to order… A kill?”

The man in question nodded his head sharply, probably hurting his neck in the progress. He wanted to speak, yet he couldn’t. That was understandable, however. Your usual civilian doesn’t meet the boss and the second in command of one of the most powerful mafias in the world every day on the streets. Or maybe he does, but he would have to be a)extremely lucky, or b)extremely stupid.

Riku Wallevish was both.

“Yes.” He finally choked out, purposely avoiding the gaze of either of the females. “On the people, I mentioned in the letter.”

“Ah. the letter. Right.” The woman on the couch looked over her shoulder and waved her right, gloved hand, beckoning the other person in the room to approach her. “Ama, be a sweetheart and bring me the letter from my office?”

‘Ama’, as the boss called her, nodded and extinguished the cigarette she was smoking in the crystal ashtray on the small, black marble table before them. That was a good development, thought Riku as Ama disappeared between the double doors to the left, because that particular brand of tobacco didn’t even smell like, well. tobacco. It was more like someone burning chewing gum mixed with old grass. What was that brand? I mean, it was probably very expensive. Fancy things aren’t always good.

His musings about global economics and quality of products were cut short, however, as the chain-smoker re-entered the room, in her gloved hand a crisp, white envelope Riku recognized as the one he himself placed in the mailbox in the city center just this morning. It seemed unopened as Ama placed it in the boss' hand which was waiting expectantly.

“There you go, Dev.”

The room was so quiet. Ama leaned on the back of the sofa, trying to peek into the handwritten letter, and besides squeaking of the old furniture and crinkling of paper, nobody said a word. Suddenly, Dev laughed.

“Oh no, oh no. What did they do again?” She wheezed, the laughing face not quite matching. Ama raised her eyebrows. It didn't take her long though to make an ugly noise and snort at something that was written in the letter.

Riku was confused. Did he make a grammatical error, or make an unplanned pun? And, by God, was he blushing in embarrassment?

The laughter continued for a while before Dev let out a long breath and slid the envelope back his way.

“No can do, Mr. Wallevish.”

“But why?”

“Well, we targeted them once.” She answered, her hand playing with the edge of the, still fuming, ashtray. “Didn’t turn out good, that’s why.”

Riku stood up suddenly, his face red with embarrassment and anger. The chair shook and fell back, a piece of the golden ornament sliding across the floor in the direction of the door. He felt like he was about to burst.

“Why!?” He yelled, droplets of his spit landing on Dev’s custom-made suit as he threw his head to the side, staring at Ama, who held his gaze and without breaking the eye contact, handed her boss a embroidered handkerchief. The man was fuming, his hands clenching and unclenching rapidly.”Aren’t you supposed to be ‘The most feared mafia in Japan?’” He added, reaching for the letter. His attempt, however, was met with something metal hitting his right palm. It took him a second to understand what just happened, but the short knife that pinned him to the marble (!) table, shook away all the doubt he might’ve had, leaving him only with agonizing, searing pain and bewilderment.

“Thank you, Nika.” Dev glanced up at the balcony over the stars. The figure standing there waved back, and Riku could swear he heard something along the lines of ‘Not the prettiest job I’ve done, but what must be done must be done.’. This day was going great so far.

“That hurts, dammit! Take it out!” he shouted, his stubby fingers running repeatedly along the surface of the table.

“Sure, if you want to cause a hemorrhage.” Dev shrugged and reached for the knife. Riku reeled back as much as he could without further damaging his hand and shook his head furiously, still seething in anger.

“No, fuck it. Nevermind.” He seethed out and eyed the room for any possible threats. And, lo and behold, there they were.

The doors straight behind Ama opened with a sickening creak. There was a possibility that nobody oiled them for the single purpose of making horror-esque noises, but it wasn’t important right now - what was important was who walked through them. Seventeen more people in different stages of being clothed - from wearing pajama pants with the top of a suit to fully armed and ready to kill - stepped into the room. Different hair colors, eye colors, genders, and skin tones. Nothing would really connect them together - except for their aura.

If somebody invented a spray that would emulate the scent of fear, that would probably be the thing that Riku “Katsudon” Wallevisch felt at that moment. They didn’t seem dangerous on the outside - one of their suits was covered in dog fur, another had a keyring with what seemed like car keys hung on their neck, and, amusingly enough, somebody in the background was loudly assembling a shotgun. No words were yet spoken, but there were words - warning signs he could clearly see in their movements. The medics were twirling scalpels in their lab coat pockets. Somebody’s gloved hand was halfway to the holster. The goddamn chef was gripping some sort of 30-centimeter blade under their apron, and they weren’t fooling anyone.

“Boss, is there any problem?” The person standing furthest to the right, stepped forward, cracking their knuckles. Dev turned her head to face them and grinned.

“No need for cleanup yet, Samu.” she laughed merrily, but instead of the tension dropping, like it should when somebody laugh, it suddenly became frightfully obvious that he was going to die.

_‘Yet.’_

“Oikawa Tooru and Kise Ryouta, huh,” Ama spoke unexpectedly, her deep voice echoing against the walls covered in portraits. “That’s the fourth time they have been requested so far.”

“No, I think it’s the fifth if we count in that one time when Ryouta actually ordered a kill on Tooru.”

“Oh yeah. Good times.”

Riku’s eyes darted across the room. His mouth was dry, he was struggling to speak. What was his pulse? God, what is a pulse, Riku couldn’t feel his heart existing at that moment.

“If they were requested so many times…” he finally spoke, his voice so foreign to him that he actually stuttered a few times before getting his tongue to work. “Why didn’t you kill them?”

 _“In some situations, you have to put connections before money.”_ The boss answered breathlessly. It was almost as if it was memorized by heart, and not brought up to support her claim.

“What?”

“ _Bonds can end you or make you stronger than ever. In our case, they do the killing, and make us sufficient.”_

 _“_ Are you saying that Oikawa and Kise-”

“Were a part of the mafia as well, yes!” Dev clapped her hands together, the rest of the people in the room joining in, creating a small wave of applause. “Not our clan, of course, but, influential enough for us to consider them a worthy exchange and support partner.”

The cheers died down, some ‘funny’ members clapping once more after the noise died down for the comedic effect, and it suddenly hit Riku, that brick wall of terror and realisation, that told him just how stupid and naive he was, trying to take out his business competition without thinking through the consequences.

He was trapped, and there was no way out. Well, there was one but it wasn’t quite smart.

“Well, Mr. Riku, I’m sure that you know what comes next-”

_Fuck it._

There was a terrible, stomach-turning sound of flesh being torn and separated from the bone, as Riku suddenly jerked forward, ripping his hand from the table, the knife still stuck in the black surface. He cursed, but leaped onto the table, jumping sideways, onto the simple rug, that miraculously didn’t slip from under his feet. The blood was now spraying in the air, the knife cutting one of the major veins. From the side of his eye, he saw Dev’s face twist in disgust, as droplets of his life essence landed on her shirt, face, and the already stained suit. No matter. There was no time.

There were two doors that led into the room. The first pair, double, made from heavy, dark wood, was a no-go since the seventeen people that previously were already mobilized and ready to strike. In that moment it didn’t occur to him why none of them moved from place, again, not that it mattered in that very second. The second door was to his right, and, if he remembered correctly, that was the door Ama came in when she was ordered to bring his letter to the boss. It was maybe 4 meters away, with no obstacles in sight. If he was just fast enough-

It was the second time of this day that he felt this searing pain, but this time it exploded. Quite literally.

Riku felt something pierce his back, somewhere near his kidneys - and then his abdomen exploded, ripping the flesh and skin of his stomach, leaving a nasty bloodstain on the pristine white carpet along the way. There was no time to think, there was no time to scream - it hurt.

It hurt, it stung, it ached, all in the same time. He gripped the unnatural hole in his stomach, in a fearful and panicked attempt to block his entrails, blood and god knows what from slipping out and onto the floor, but it was no use. Adrenaline didn’t help at all, and he let out a screech, the last yell of agony that was supposed to mark his existence in this world.

And then he fell silent.

His body slammed lifelessly onto the ground, splashing the blood that already managed to pool underneath his feet onto the walls and the door that was just mere centimeters before him. His fingers twitched a few times - too early for rigor mortis, but enough for the nerves so still work. Was he crying? Was he laughing? What was he thinking in his last seconds, as he watched his own entrails leave his body? He’d say if he could, but in this situation, all he saw was fog.

“Riku Wallevisch, aged 31, sex: male, time of death: 5.21 PM.” Muttered somebody from the back row of the group that stood by the door.

“Nice work Cassie.”

“Nice work to you boss. That was a great shot.” Cassie answered back, slightly nudging Milky to bring her back to full attention. After giving the residing medic a confused stare, she swiftly realized what she was supposed to, and took the still smoking shotgun (previously assembled when the party first entered the room) out of her boss’ hands. Dev exhaled and stretched.

“Samu, _now_ we are going to need some cleanup.” She turned around and headed towards the door, carefully stepping over the still twitching body.”Oh right, the shoes. You can do the honors, Nika.” And with that, she walked out of the room, her grumbling about ruined suit harmonising melodically with the same curse words of the affiliated tailor, Buni, who gracefully hopped over the body (miraculously avoiding all the blood), and raced after Dev, who was probably not going to hear the end of it.

In the same time, after jumping off of the balcony in a not needed, but very flashy stunt, Nika was already crouching by the corpse, untying the shoelaces in his leather shoes. It took little to no time to take them off, and just like that, Riku’s eyes were closed, the body was taken away (courtesy of Samu), and after few moments, the only remnant of what was left of “Katsudon” was the large bloodstain on the white carpet.

“Take them.” Nika pushed the shoes into Liz’s chest. “You know where the ‘hall’ is, right?”

“But I’m only an uber-”

“And I’m only an artist. Now please go, before the blood dries off.”

There was no talking back to Nika, it seemed.

The hall was a place that everyone in the GunBoys familia both loved and hated for two obvious reasons. One - it was the place of glory and pride to all the assassins and mercenaries affiliated with the group, and two - it was just too God damn creepy.

Liz clutched the shoes to her chest. Sometimes “the hall” was too overwhelming even for the oldest members. She was 27, for fuck’s sake, she should be an example!

But nobody was watching now, and she shuddered visibly as she opened the doors painted in red, gold and silver. Not even bothering to manually turn on the lights, she put the shoes on the nearest free shelf and bolted the room, slamming the doors behind her. And then there was silence. The lights, triggered by the movement near the door began switching in one by one, finally showing the full, 300 meters long hall filled with shelves.

And on each shelf, laid a pair of shoes, taken off a dead body.


	2. A manor hidden between magnolia trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the best thing that can happen to a person is love, warmth, and acceptance.  
> Sometimes it's a black Porsche and a pair of eccentric Uber drivers.

_ “There was a moment in the history of Japan when everyone was talking about one group of juvenile vigilantes that took justice into their own hands. They were cold, ruthless, but in the same moment, very human and real, and they reminded us of the dreams we had as young anarchists. Outcasts of society, not taken seriously by anyone, they gathered under the name, not quite fitting their reputation or the type of jobs they performed.  _

_ GunBoys are one of few active Japanese mixed yakuza groups that are still in operation and continue to take requests in the open forum. Amazingly, no one can really stand up to them anymore…” _

“SJ, what do you think happened to the boss?” said a redhaired girl from over the laptop that was opened on the counter, her fingers still typing feverishly as she talked. “He hasn’t sent anyone to check on the shop lately. Weird right?”

A pack of freshly unloaded vinyls cluttered to the ground in the second alley of the small music shop in Shibuya. A muffled laughter came from behind the rack, as a smiling face peeked around the corner of the row of shelves.

“No idea, Miu. Maybe he finally went down from eating too many pork cutlets?” SJ answered, gracefully placing the records back in their respective places. 

Movie soundtracks, smooth jazz, heavy metal, Slavic folk - there wasn’t a genre of music that  _ The Big Katsudon  _ didn’t have in stock. Once upon a time, the shop held even a competition - if you could ask the clerk for a music genre which they didn’t have on hand, you would get a $1000 bonification grant to spend in the most popular shops Tokio had to offer. Long story short, nobody won it, ever.

It didn’t look like anybody would have that chance anymore, though, as the owner of the brand, Riku “Katsudon” Wallevisch has recently gone missing, leaving behind only a strange letter in which he explained that he was sick and tired of the competitive society and that he is going to become a monk in the mountains. Weird, but understandable.

What threw people off though, was the point that came after his heartfelt confession. In the short, hand signed note he announce passing the rights to  _ The Big Katsudon _ to another company -  _ Onlookers Inc _ .

“The letter said that he left forever, right?” SJ laughed and took off her red polar with a small bowl full of some sort of dish served on a plate made out of a cd, the logo of the shop, embroidered on her chest. “I just hope the new owners won’t give us such hellish working hours” she added, causing the redhead behind the counter to laugh and shake her head. 

“You’re heading out?” Miu inquired, as the sound of typing filled the alleys once more. 

“Yeah. I’m taking the evening off.”

“Family business again?”

“I guess you could say that.” SJ smiled bitterly, grabbing her duffel bag with used work uniform. “Sorry to make you stay after your shift ended. Thanks again.”

Miu only waved her hand. “It’s not a problem. At least I can finish my work in peace here. My siblings would bother me to death at home.” She leaned over the counter to meet SJ’s eyes for the last time this evening. “I hope everything gets settled soon. You look so tired recently.”

“Thanks. I’ll be off!”

And with that, the automatic doors slid open before SJ, and she left the establishment, the smell of dust, and the sound of rapidly pressed keys behind her. 

She was now surrounded by sound. Low chatter, someone singing a melody as they passed her on the sidewalk, too engrossed in the song they were listening to realize that they were mimicking the vocalists. A public bus passed by her as she stood at the crossroads, waiting for the lights to turn green, and one of the children inside pressed their face against the window, shooting her a toothless smile and a wave of a chubby hand. Someone laughed in the background, locking his hand with another boy, and they keep calling each other pet names, each of them blushing more furiously with every passing minute. A driver honked impatiently as she passed the busy street, and the grandma that was walking behind her slammed her cane onto his hood. 

That was the reason SJ chose Japan when choosing her branch. Sounds.

SJ believed that sounds could overturn any situation. Was it a scrimmage, a boss fight, a simple party or maybe even an interrogation, the correct choice of music could change the outcome for better, or for worse.

But it was not the time to be thinking about cognitive psychology and music therapy. 

SJ turned into an alley between a dango shop and a school - a narrow, unkept passage which she absolutely hated. There was not a single time that she hadn’t stained her clothes with dust or grass, not even mentioning the uncountable numbers of cobwebs that collected on her body as she walked towards the arched exit out of this claustrophobic passage.

Then, there came a whistle. A singular, sharp sound she knew by heart that meant one thing - hurry up. She picked up the pace, the rocky walls on both sides scrapping her wrists and shins as she progressed through with much more motivation and commitment than just a few minutes ago. The second whistle bounced off the walls, much closer than before, but still behind a multitude of sticking out stones. 

“Fucking hell, Liz, give me a second!” SJ barked as she kicked one of the rocks in anger. Someone laughed, leaning on the arch at the end of the passage.

“You know the rules, love. Three whistles and you’re walking on your own.” Liz retorted back, laughing heartedly, as she reached her hand out to give SJ the final tug she needed to get out of the passageway. “I have many more people to tend to, you know. And it was you who proposed we meet here, right?”

“It was close to my workplace! I thought that someone cleaned it up after someone wanted to go all artistic last time!”

“Oh, Nika? Nah. Cleaning up ain’t like her. She wants to be seen after all.”

There was a quick beeping noise, as Liz turned around and waved her hand. The black Porsche, parked on the sidewalk next to the exit of the alley. “Let’s go. We’re gaining attention.” She added and began walking towards the vehicle. SJ only huffed and followed in her footsteps, the idea of walking the distance not appealing enough to rebel against the crude humor she just experienced. The window of the black car rolled down, and a familiar mop of brownish hair appeared from the driver’s side.

“Hey, hey, pick up the pace, the engine is still warm!” the Mish that followed the hair said as she impatiently tapped her fingers against the leather covered driving wheel. The silver pin that adorned her cufflinks hit the glass rhythmically when she waved at them, and SJ involuntarily touched the collar of her dress shirt, where the same emblem was attached, in plain sight, easy for everyone to see.

For someone ignorant and naive (like most people in modern Japan), it could seem like a very specific choice of jewelry or a fan club membership pin. Maybe it could even be a symbol from one of the comic books that the youth seem to be enjoying so much nowadays? The pretty design of three bloomed birdsfoot trefoils held up by a tear-shaped diamond was definitely eye-catching, but for a simple passerby, it had no further meaning than a trinket.

What was it for them, though?

Glancing to the side as Liz, in a truly gentlemanly fashion opened the door for her to step into the back of the car, SJ noticed the same design attached to the lapel of her black suit, the silver glistening slightly in the weak street lights. Looking away before things turned awkward, the girl quickly stepped inside the expensive vehicle and no sooner than she rested her body on the leather seat, the car moved with wizardly precision (Liz equally magically appearing on the front passenger’s seat) out of the alley and into the main traffic. 

There was no sound inside the Porsche as Mish professionally maneuvered the car on the asphalt roads of suburban Tokyo. The engine was quiet, and the expected noise was reduced to just small hums, similar to a heater, or a cooling down computer. SJ shuffled in her seat - the lavish interior of the vehicle still weirding her out, even after a good year of riding it back and forth.

“You want some water?” Mish’s voice broke the crystalline silence in the car, snapping the passenger from their momentary discomfort. “There’s a bottle cooling off under the seat if you want.”

“Wasn’t that mine?” Liz raised her eyebrow at the driver.

“The guest is the king, remember?” the woman on the left side retorted back, her hand leaving the wheel for a split second just to wave at her co-pilot. Liz huffed and brought her attention back to cleaning something that looked very, very similar to a short dagger.

There was indeed a bottle of mineral water under the comfortable seat, stashed away in a hidden cooler that somebody (probably Ang) installed in a stroke of genius. Letting her fingers slide across the icy interior of the cooler for a moment, she shuddered as the cool wave spread across her body, offering a pleasant refuge from the stuffy air outside the car. Her fingers finally wrapped around the neck of a glass bottle and pulled it out, the scattered ice cubes crunching as the container scratched against the bottom of the cooler.

“Fancy.” SJ whispered to no one in particular as she unscrewed the cap from the bottle, a fizzing sound filling the air. The water was cold, as expected, and the girl exhaled through her nose as she let her back sink into the seat. Mish let out a small chuckle, but besides that, no one spoke a word. Turning her head to face the window, her eyebrows rose as she realized that they left the central Tokyo a while ago. How fast was Mish driving again?

Her eyes landed on the figure behind the driving wheel, who, seeing the questioning gaze in the rear-view window, smirked and slowly, almost making a show out of it, switched the car into the fifth gear. 

Oh. That explains a lot.

The scenery behind the tinted window changed rapidly, images often blurring together into long alleys of color and shapes that even a trained artistic eye couldn’t tell apart. 

And suddenly there were trees. SJ could’ve sworn that they were just in the suburbs, but then again, what would fresh magnolia trees be doing in the middle of the city? There was only one answer, and that answer was - the car was entering a private property.

Sure enough, the car suddenly pulled to a halt in front of a heavy metal gate with the exact same emblem that they carry on their pins - either on the collar, the cufflinks or the lapel. 

“Am I supposed to go or..?” Liz turned to Mish, but she was already outside, punching the code into the numeric lock next to the, still slammed shut, gate. “Dammit, Mish, always a step before me…”

The emblem on the gate clicked loudly, and the metal gateway began swinging open to the inside. 

“Get driving.” the woman outside of the car yelled over the sound of the creaking of metal against metal, and Liz huffed in distress. 

“But you’re the driver!” she retorted back, leaning over the gearbox to grab the wheel.

“Um, Liz, the gas pedal-”

“Shit, I know!”

It took her a while to get to the driver’s seat without staining or scratching the leather interior of the car with her the hobnails in her shiny shoes. SJ watched the struggle with a half-smile on her face, counting the seconds that passed, and the seconds before the gate will start to close. 

“There we go!” Liz yelped as she fumbled with the seat belt.

“God, we don’t have time for this!” SJ finally whined, having enough of this day already. Liz turned around in the seat

“But, the safety-”

“Just drive!”

And drive she did. Switching the car straight into the third gear, the back tires threw up a cover of little stones and dust, probably dirtying the rear of the shiny, thousands of dollars’ worth vehicle, and the car roared, driving past the gates just as the metal began to squeak again, this time to close behind them. There was no one by the entrance anymore - annoyed with the length of the waiting time, Mish took off on her own, heading towards the mansion that could be seen behind the magnolia trees. 

“That was… Wild... “ SJ let out the breath she didn’t realize that she was holding.

“Tell me about it.” Liz muttered under her breath, slowing down the car to the point that it was slowly, leisurely rolling down the, now paved, driveway. The blooming flowers touched the windows as they passed them, creating an illusion of moving through a thick forest. The smell was heavenly, and SJ had to stop herself from rolling down the window and touching the low hanging blossoms. The radio crackled to life, catching the frequency of the signal tower behind the mansion, and suddenly, a light laughter and a conversation about penguins and lack of sleep filled the interior of the car. 

It sounded like Pingu forgot to go off live after giving a signal, SJ thought as a small smile crept upon her face. This sound, this smell… Yeah. That was the feeling of home. 

When the car pulled up to the massive stairs that were leading up to the main entrance to the mansion, the sun has already set, leaving the driveway bathed in light coming from the windows of the building and the pair of antique street lamps. Usually busy with life yard was now peaceful and quiet, most of the residents already asleep after a day of work, or still on duty, performing missions in the city and beyond. On top of the stone stairs, however, stood a pair of girls, constantly checking their wristwatches and tapping their feet impatiently. 

On the sight of the Porsche pulling into the driveway, they both instantly made their way down the stairs, one faster than the other. (the one wearing what seemed like a pair of fluffy bedroom shoes nearly tripping somewhere around halfway down.) 

“SJ!” a long-haired woman wearing a lab coat over a black dress shirt with a pair of fitting formal pants and, oddly enough, shoes that didn’t quite look like a set - blue, fluffy slippers with a weird, panda pattern, yelled out as she made her way to the barely opened car door. “You sure took your sweet time!” 

“Sorry, Ang.” SJ scratched the back of her head, smiling sheepishly as she stepped out of the car. “The girl that took the rest of the shift wouldn’t stop questioning me.”

The moment SJ’s body left the vehicle and the door was shut, Liz stepped on the pedal, causing the powerful engine to roar, turning the women’s attention towards the rolled down a front window.

“You owe me a drink, SJ.” Liz grinned and took off in the direction of the garages, leaving her passenger still processing her request.

“Hey! It’s your goddamn job!” she finally shook her fist in the direction of the leaving car, yelling profanities towards the driver whose laugh could still be heard as she left the line of vision. 

Ang coughed.

“Can we get inside? We’ll talk while walking”

“Shit, is it this urgent?” SJ asked as they made their way back up the stairs, the other person joining them halfway. “Hi, Cinna.”

“Hello. And it’s more annoying than urgent.” Cinna was also wearing a lab coat, but, compared to Ang, she actually wore proper family clothing underneath. “Boss hasn’t been getting much sleep, and you know how that ends”

The giant double doors opened with a squeak, and the trio made their way into the elegant corridor and past the front desk. The receptionist looked up from her laptop and only nodded at SJ, who simply waved shyly in her direction.

The hall was posh, the walls painted with light beige, the floors finished up with marble. Everyone was always in shock when they first stepped into the mansion, and it was understandable. There was everything you would expect in a museum - soft, non-irritating light, artworks in fancy frames lining the walls on the entire length of the corridor, with the names of world-recognized artist engraved on gold plates underneath them. There were guards in black suits, gently scratching the heads of their dogs, who, even under their touch looked like they could bite someone’s head off if they made only one wrong move.

Yet, as SJ and all the other people gathered in the entrance hall knew, the Blueberry Mansion was very much not a museum nor a recreational facility - it was a house of many, and a place of business for few.

“So what’s going on, Ang?” SJ finally asked when the security let them through letting them go further in the mysterious house. The woman in question stuffed her hands in the pockets of the lab coat and huffed absentmindedly, focusing her sight on something in the distance.

“We’ve been receiving strange calls lately.” She began speaking, pausing for a moment to swipe her ID card across the reader next to the side door, between a painting of a man with lavender hair and a half-nude painting of a boy with button-like eyes. “Nobody ever says anything, and all we get is either static or some sort of strange background noise.” Ang’s face scrunched up in disgust as she seemingly recalled the said noises.

“Strange?” SJ questioned, stepping into a laboratory behind Ang and Cinna. “What’s strange about background noise?” 

“Imagine nails on a chalkboard.” Cinna threw her head back to look at SJ, her eyes tired and surrounded by dark circles.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, that.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, the thought of the sound that caused nightmares to some and guilty pleasure to others, still too invasive in their mind, the mere thought of it making the trio cringe.

They walked through a few labs, each more extravagant than others. Ang glanced wearily at the unfinished experiments, right in the open on some of the counters, and Cinna only sighed in the background, ushering her to walk further into the labyrinth of corridors and halls. Some of the doors were slammed shut, marked with the insignia of people living in the Blueberry Manor and some were non-existent, seemingly broken down or torn down into sherds.

Whoever did that, probably had a pretty shitty day.

The neverending journey through the Tartarus of white and sterile finally ended, as Ang scanned her ID on the card reader for the last time. (The ID itself was worn down and stained in multiple colors, SJ noticed, as she compared it to her own, crystal crisp and white identification document. Ang definitely has been a resident of the Blueberry Manor for a long time - how much exactly, no one knew.) They entered a dimly lit room with a simple bed, a couch and a coffee table, with a wardrobe hidden by red curtains, and Cinna shook her lab coat off, rolling it up and throwing it under the bed and plopping down on the couch.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself at home.” she made a sweeping gesture and SJ couldn’t help but ask:

“Why here, out of all places?”

“Ah. Well, I have all phones connected to the server in my room, as well as the computers and security.” Cinna pressed a button on the pilot that she fished from under the pillow to her right. Something duly clicked behind the girls and SJ turned her head around just in time to witness the curtain roll back and uncover the interior of the supposed wardrobe.

Suddenly, the people gathered in the room experienced hundreds of tiny lights shining in the twilight-like lit room, and all of them were coming from the same spot - the wardrobe.

Several pc like parts were stacked tightly, each one bigger and louder than other, creating a wall of pure electronics that not only made SJ slowly back up against the window-less wall but also instinctively reach for her ears in an attempt to protect them from the shrilling sound of overheating servers. Cinna laughed.

“You’ve never seen the Great Wall of Electronics?” her hand gingerly touched one of the PC’s, dusting it off a bit. “Get used to it then, because you’re going to spend a pretty hefty amount of time in here in the upcoming days.” She winked.

“Um, I’m still not sure what I am supposed to do…” SJ chuckled nervously, slowly unplugging her ears. 

“Well, the thing is-” Ang started to speak, but was quickly cut off by another figure that for quite a long time observed them from the doors they just walked through.

“I’ll explain.” A familiar voice, both stern and filled with worry and concern cut through the buzzing that filled the room, instantly catching everyone’s attention. The three figures gathered in the room shot up to their feet, straightening up their postures and putting their hands behind their backs.

“Boss!”

And indeed, just like Ang choked out, there stood Dev, clad in her custom-made suit, Ama trailing close behind her, in her hand a silvery briefcase secured by a numeric lock.

“Long story short…” Dev exhaled, her eyes looking more tired than ever, and the tension only grew thicker.  _“I believe we’re being threatened.”_


End file.
